


the nsa project

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Rimming, Romance, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2019-01-16 21:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: “The key to a successful overnight relationship,” says Kawai, “is to find someone who you’re attracted to, but don’t respect.”





	the nsa project

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for cotton candy bingo (unexpected love).

“The key to a successful overnight relationship,” says Kawai, “is to find someone who you’re attracted to, but don’t respect.”

Fujigaya snorts. “Well, that’s easy.”

“You forgot the celebrity addendum,” adds Hasshi, clearly missing the sarcasm in Fujigaya’s voice. “It also has to be someone who is of the same social status. Higher or lower runs the risk of trying to bang the rungs on the corporate ladder, if you know what I mean.”

Kawai pats Hasshi on the shoulder, beaming proudly, and Fujigaya gives them both an unimpressed look. He didn’t come out tonight to get a lecture on casual sex from a nineteen year old. “It didn’t used to be this difficult to get laid,” he mutters.

“Hey, I would offer, but you respect me too much,” Kawai says, and Fujigaya lets him think what he wants. “When you respect someone, you run the risk of getting attached. Which defeats the whole purpose.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Fujigaya scans the dance floor and sees nothing but drunk losers trying to hit on scantily-clad girls who are pretending to be disinterested. “It just seems like so much effort.”

“I didn’t say it had to be a complete stranger,” Kawai says, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, Taisuke, you make everything into such a big deal.”

“It’s just sex,” Hasshi says with a shrug. “I could probably do it with anyone if it felt right.”

Fujigaya stares at him and shakes his head. “Weren’t you just fifteen?”

Grinning, Hasshi waves his neon-colored minor bracelet and sips his lemon water. Fujigaya tries not to think about Hasshi possibly having more experience than Fujigaya did at his age (or even now) as he scrolls through his phone, looking for potential hook-up candidates. He’s not really fussy about gender, but boys are usually easier and much less likely to want more. Except that Fujigaya respects just about everyone he works with, and the few exceptions he wouldn’t want to get close to, let alone intimate with.

“Ugh, this is impossible,” he bemoans the next day at work, completely drenched from liters of fake rain.

“It will look much better on camera,” Kitayama assures him, and Fujigaya blinks at him until he realizes that Kitayama thinks he’s talking about the PV.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Fujigaya tells him, because he does.

Kitayama shrugs. “I’m a drowned rat in tight pants.”

Rolling his eyes, Fujigaya purposely doesn’t look down as they get back into formation and try not to slip-n-slide all over the set. Naturally the kouhai are having the time of their lives, with exception of Tamamori who keeps getting water in his eyes, and even Yokoo seems to be enjoying himself by flipping his hair everywhere like he’s in a shampoo commercial. Fujigaya’s only a little jealous as he tugs on his own hair, trying to make it longer, but at least it curls nicely now.

“You’re so impatient,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya makes a face at him. “It’s actually kind of ridiculous, because you’re arguably the best-looking member of this group—next to me—and you’re never satisfied with how you look.”

“Whatever,” Fujigaya replies. “I don’t care what you think.”

“You never do,” Kitayama points out, “but that’s not going to stop me from saying it.”

Fujigaya ignores him and goes on with their filming, but he gets exceptionally annoyed with every one of Kitayama’s over-the-top actions. Kitayama probably isn’t even conscious of it; it’s just second nature for him to go around making dumb faces and doing things that for whatever reason their fans find sexy. And that’s saying something coming from Fujigaya.

They’re in the elevator later when Fujigaya has an epiphany. Apparently it was a loud one, because Kitayama turns to eye him strangely like he was about to do something psycho like stop the elevator and kill them both. He doesn’t seem that concerned, though, probably because he thinks he can hold his own in a brawl with Fujigaya, which is neither here nor there.

Because even after working together for all these years, there’s really nothing he respects about Kitayama. And as much as Fujigaya wants to lord his seniority over him, they technically have the same social status. And Kitayama hadn’t bothered to dry his hair all the way (which is really stupid, since it’s below freezing outside), leaving a drop to run down the back of his neck.

“Hey,” Fujigaya says, his sudden shiver giving him more incentive to speak. “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow night, do you want to…hang out?”

“Hang out?” Kitayama repeats, though he sounds more amused than confused. “Yeah, sure, but let’s do it tonight instead.”

Fujigaya pretends not to choke on his breath. “Um, you know what I mean by ‘hang out’, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Kitayama says, flicking his eyes towards Fujigaya’s in a way that feels like a prelude to what they’re about to do. “Why do you think I want to move it up? I don’t like to wait.”

“Well, okay.” Fujigaya stands up tall and tries to look unaffected. “I’ll be by later, then. After I’ve had a shower.”

“Just shower at my place,” Kitayama says. “Come on.”

Fujigaya blinks and they’re on the train, riding in silence toward Kitayama’s apartment, where Fujigaya has actually never been before. Kitayama may have a point about sooner rather than later, because every passing minute has Fujigaya second-guessing his impromptu decision, inwardly calculating how long it would take him to get home if he bolted at the next exit.

Then Kitayama leans back and stretches, making a face that is neither dumb nor unsexy as he sighs softly and settles back into his seat. Fujigaya must be staring pretty hard, because he’s jabbed in the side by Kitayama’s elbow and Fujigaya realizes Kitayama’s looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Aren’t you cold?” Fujigaya asks, because being concerned about Kitayama’s welfare is not as bad as being caught ogling, particularly since this is probably the most clothes he’s ever seen Kitayama wear in the entire course of their careers. He is not, however, wearing a hat, and hoods don’t do much for wet heads, as Fujigaya’s mother constantly reminds him.

“I’m fine,” Kitayama replies, flashing a knowing grin. “Thank you for caring.”

Fujigaya redirects his eyes to his lap and tries to think about other things. He actually has a drama season off. He can grow out his hair again. His mother will be happy to see him in the daylight, as will his cute puppy. He could take up a hobby, like cooking or knitting. Or sexing.

“You should know that your cheeks are bright red,” Kitayama tells him, and Fujigaya covers his face with both hands.

It’s moderately better once they’re off the train, when Fujigaya can focus on walking and their surroundings. He leans casually against the wall as Kitayama unlocks his front door, mostly in case there are any reporters lurking, though honestly any rumors of them actually spending time together outside of work would be favorable.

Once inside, Fujigaya looks for something to comment on, but there’s not much going on decor-wise. Clearly Kitayama’s personality ends with his appearance. Kitayama doesn’t seem interested in conversation, though, his coat flung over the back of the couch before Fujigaya even has his laces untied, but he doesn’t stop there. Fujigaya nearly trips out of his shoes when Kitayama reaches back to pull his shirt over his head, baring the golden skin of his back that looks much better in person than on TV, then disappears down the hallway.

Fujigaya finishes taking off his coat and follows suit, figuring they’re just going to go for it, and his shirt is halfway off when Kitayama returns with a towel wrapped around his neck and another one still rolled up. He tilts his head in question and Fujigaya just lets his shirt fall back down, catching the towel when Kitayama tosses it to him and trying not to smother himself with it.

“I should be a good host and let you shower first, but you take forever and I only have so much hot water,” Kitayama says. “I’ll be quick. Help yourself to the TV or whatever.”

Then he turns around, and Fujigaya’s still standing there in the doorway when he hears the shower start. TV sounds like a good idea, because then he can focus on something other than the fact that he’s about to hook up with Kitayama. Or the fact that Kitayama is in the shower, wet and naked, running his hands all over his body as he washes himself and Fujigaya squeezes his eyes shut in defeat, not even bothering to look for the remote control. He could probably watch a graphic documentary on the bubonic plague and still think about sex. Specifically sex with Kitayama.

So he’s in the exact same place Kitayama had left him when he returns, bundled up in a robe that’s entirely too big for him, and Fujigaya barely swallows back his suggestion that perhaps he should look in the children’s department for one that fits. Kitayama’s hair is still wet, and dripping, and Fujigaya doesn’t bother trying to pretend he’s not staring.

“I have to say, I’m disappointed,” Kitayama says, approaching Fujigaya and looking right up into his eyes. “I had thought you might join me.”

Fujigaya chokes on his air, which has Kitayama laughing until Fujigaya glares at him. He starts to say something indignant, but then Kitayama’s shoving him down the hall and all that comes out are garbled noises because Kitayama’s hands are on his back.

“If I hear any dubious noises, I’m coming in,” Kitayama threatens, and Fujigaya rushes to close himself in the bathroom. At least Kitayama has decent hair products, which Fujigaya has no shame using as he takes a career-record fast shower (which is still long by commoner standards) and pays absolutely no attention to the way his body is overly interested in his own touch. Kitayama’s guest robe is quite fluffy, leading Fujigaya to feel marginally more comfortable as he hesitates with his hand on the doorknob.

He takes a deep breath and turns it, immediately relaxing when he looks across the hall and sees Kitayama curled up on his bed, completely asleep. Shaking his head, Fujigaya makes his way over there, carefully hopping up onto the bed as to not rouse the other man. Kitayama is on his side, arm wedged under his head like he couldn’t make it all the way up to his pillow, and Fujigaya smiles at the familiarity. Kitayama sleeping is as normal as breathing; in the past couple years since they’ve been so busy, Fujigaya’s probably seen him asleep more often than awake, backstage during solos and in the dressing room on breaks.

Only this time he’s free to look all he wants, appreciating Kitayama’s natural beauty for probably the first time. Fujigaya doesn’t mind him like this, his expressionless face that’s not showing off for any cameras. His eyelashes flutter a little as he breathes, rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and Fujigaya reaches out to touch his cheek, dragging his knuckles lightly along Kitayama’s jaw that’s baby smooth despite being the end of the day.

Then Kitayama’s eyes flash open, dark and hooded, and Kitayama’s hand clamps onto Fujigaya’s wrist before he can pull it away. He doesn’t even bother trying to play it off, holding Kitayama’s stare because, dammit, now he really wants this, has probably wanted it for a while.

Kitayama licks his lips and smirks when he sees Fujigaya’s eyes flicker towards them. “Unless you want to talk about it, you should probably come down here.”

His words are punctuated with a tug on Fujigaya’s wrist, just firm enough to serve the purpose, and Fujigaya will probably never admit that he’s grateful for that final push. Everything is easier once their lips touch, at least on Fujigaya’s end as he stretches out on his side next to Kitayama and cups his face. Kitayama’s fingers go straight for his hair and all of Fujigaya’s apprehensions fade away, the gentle strokes relaxing as Kitayama turns Fujigaya’s head to guide him into a better position.

It feels _so nice_ to kiss someone, and Kitayama’s not bad at it by any means, his lips plush and responsive. He keeps up with Fujigaya, letting him have control, which fuels Fujigaya’s veins enough to make the move to taste more of him. He flicks his tongue between Kitayama’s lips and Kitayama instantly lets him in, licking at him in return and the mere contact sends a surge of pleasure down his spine. It also pulls a faint moan from his throat, which is embarrassing until Kitayama wraps an arm around him, pulling him close and playing with the fabric of the robe right at the small of Fujigaya’s back.

Fujigaya’s hand falls from Kitayama’s face onto his neck, sliding down his collarbone and taking the robe with it. Kitayama has absolutely no problem with this judging by the way he kisses Fujigaya harder, his own hand trailing to the tie of Fujigaya’s robe and following it to where it’s looped in a lazy knot. He pauses to pull his arm out of the sleeve when Fujigaya pushes it down even more, effectively shoving it off his shoulder, and it’s Kitayama’s turn to gasp when Fujigaya explores his chest and collarbones.

The cool air of the room chills Fujigaya’s skin as it’s exposed, his robe being flung to the side as his arms are coerced out of it, leaving him wearing nothing but his jewelry. He rushes to untie Kitayama’s as well, his hand bumping something hard in the process and now it’s a deep moan tickling his tongue. Fingers trail down the line of his hips and Fujigaya shifts toward the promising touch, which has him reaching for Kitayama’s cock the second Kitayama’s hand is around his, both of their breaths growing harsher as everything starts moving so much faster.

It’s Kitayama who pulls Fujigaya on top of him, clarifying the order of things without words, though it’s blatantly obvious when Kitayama pulls away long enough to bang around in his nightstand. He looks irritated, despite being the one who should have already had the essentials within reach, but it’s all worth it when he looks up and Fujigaya sees his hooded eyes and wet lips, cheeks tinted pink and chest visibly rising and falling with each breath.

Suddenly this is the best idea Fujigaya has ever had. Never mind that it was technically Kawai’s idea; it was Fujigaya who picked Kitayama. They could have done this years ago, honestly, and maybe they should have. Though if they had, they might not still be doing it _now_ , and Fujigaya wouldn’t get to watch Kitayama stretch out on his back completely naked and aroused, glancing over at him from under his bangs that are still in the process of drying. Fujigaya probably wouldn’t be grabbed by the shoulder and pulled down closer, either, their cocks bumping together as Kitayama wraps his arms around Fujigaya’s neck and lifts his knees pointedly.

Fujigaya returns to Kitayama’s mouth like he’d never left, received by warm lips and an eager tongue that only gets faster as Fujigaya coats his fingers with lube and brings them between Kitayama’s legs. If he’d thought Kitayama was responsive before, it’s nothing compared to how he reacts as Fujigaya stretches him, his body jerking with quick gasps as his hands return to Fujigaya’s hair and tug just hard enough to feel really good.

A sharp moan has Fujigaya pulling away, mouthing Kitayama’s neck instead because he wants to hear all of it. For as ridiculous as Kitayama is in the spotlight, his voice is gorgeous, especially like this, uninhibited and uncontrolled. Fujigaya pushes in a second finger and Kitayama rocks back against them, his hands dropping to grip onto Fujigaya’s shoulder blades, more or less clinging to him as his body opens up for Fujigaya.

Fujigaya was expecting it, but he still nearly jumps out of his skin when Kitayama jerks and tightens around his fingers, followed by a strangled moan like it was an afterthought. Fujigaya keeps touching that same place as Kitayama gets louder, letting out a soft noise of his own when he finds himself grinding against the back of Kitayama’s thigh, and he manages to slip in a third finger while Kitayama just lies there thrashing on his own bed.

Then Kitayama grabs his wrist, pushes it away, and yanks Fujigaya forward by his arm as he reaches for the condom packet. He rolls it onto Fujigaya’s cock as he leans up to brush their lips together and Fujigaya’s back in his mouth, kissing him fiercely, the next second muffling both of their noises as Fujigaya buries himself inside Kitayama.

Kitayama’s moan tickles Fujigaya’s tongue, his muscles squeezing Fujigaya from every angle as Fujigaya trembles from his efforts to stay still, giving Kitayama a bit to get used to him. Kitayama doesn’t stop kissing him; in fact, his kisses get more intense as he brings one hand down to drag his knuckles along Fujigaya’s spine while the other remains tangled in Fujigaya’s hair. Already Kitayama’s mind is completely gone and Fujigaya feels a little awesome that he can make that happen when he’s barely inside him.

If Kitayama is nothing else, he’s certainly upfront and unabashed about what he wants, even when he’s on his back with his knees up to his shoulders and Fujigaya balls-deep inside him. Heels dig into Fujigaya’s tailbone and he takes that as a cue to move, slowly pulling back to feel all of it before thrusting back inside. Kitayama’s noises taste almost as good as they sound, leaving Fujigaya reluctant to pull away from his mouth to hear more, but Kitayama doesn’t give him much of a choice as he arches and throws his head back, hair splaying on the pillow. The force of his moan has Fujigaya doing it again, and again, building up a speed that has Kitayama clutching onto him and crying out into the otherwise silent apartment.

The bad part about leaving Kitayama’s mouth—or the good thing, depending on how you look at it—is that it’s free to spout whatever dirty things it wants, particularly Fujigaya’s first name and how good Fujigaya feels inside him. It breaks the spell of silence between them, but Fujigaya rather enjoys how his name sounds in that tone and snaps his hips harder, earning more of it.

“Mm, Taisuke, just like that,” Kitayama’s saying, his voice rough and deep and pulling Fujigaya under with him. “Come on, let me hear you.”

Fujigaya hadn’t realized he’d been holding back until he lets go, his own noises spilling from his lips and pressing into Kitayama’s throat that stretches to accommodate. Kitayama tightens even more around him and Fujigaya realizes it’s _from his voice_ , which has Fujigaya leaning up to press his lips to Kitayama’s ear so he can hear all of it.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Kitayama says, and apparently it goes both ways because each word that comes out of Kitayama’s mouth has Fujigaya’s blood boiling more and more. “Fuck me harder, Taisuke, isn’t that why you’re here? You can give me more than that, can’t you? I can take it, come on. Make me feel it tomorrow.”

“Fuck,” Fujigaya sputters, not recognizing his own voice as he follows orders and pounds into Kitayama hard enough to make the bed shake. Each thrust has Kitayama crying out, creating a cycle of stimulation that takes away the last of Fujigaya’s coherence. “Mitsu.”

“That’s it,” Kitayama hisses and now Fujigaya’s blood is on fire. “Are you close? You look like you’re close. You look so hot like this, Taisuke. I want to watch you fall apart for me. Show me what you came here for.”

The words seem to direct Fujigaya’s body more than his own actions, pulling him right to the brink and then over, where he loops his arms around Kitayama’s shoulder and groans into Kitayama’s throat as his body jerks in orgasm. He comes so hard that the next thing he knows, he’d been rolled to the side, desperately catching his breath and struggling to open his eyes only to see Kitayama right in his face, eyes dark and penetrating.

“God _damn_ , you have a filthy mouth,” Fujigaya gasps, and Kitayama laughs.

“Got you off, didn’t it?” Kitayama replies, looking rather proud of himself as he grabs Fujigaya’s hand and pushes it down. “Now it’s my turn. Be happy I waited until you were conscious again.”

Fujigaya may be conscious, but he’s still gathering his bearings and already has his fingers around Kitayama’s cock by the time his mind catches up with his body. It’s even harder than before, leaking at the tip, and now Fujigaya understands the appeal of watching someone else like this. Kitayama’s face contorts much worse than when he’s at work, but it’s notably more enticing when he’s shuddering from Fujigaya’s touch, twitching in his hand and moaning with every breath.

“You’re so hard,” Fujigaya whispers, curling up next to Kitayama to speak into his ear. “Did you like me fucking you that much?”

“Mm, yeah,” Kitayama replies, hips rocking into Fujigaya’s touch.

“You’re not the only one who can talk like that, you know,” Fujigaya says as he thumbs the knot under the head and watches Kitayama jerk. “You like this? Tell me what else you like.”

“I’ll show you,” Kitayama offers, bringing his hand to cover Fujigaya’s and flicking his wrist a bit. Fujigaya copies the action and Kitayama’s breaths grow staggered. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Like this?” Fujigaya asks, only a little facetiously since he’s obviously doing it right. He adds a swipe of his thumb along the slit on the upstroke and shivers as Kitayama’s next noise is shrill. “What about this? I really like this, myself.”

“Oh really,” Kitayama says, sounding just as interested as Fujigaya expected him to.

“Yeah,” Fujigaya replies. He speeds up a bit, making both of them gasp. “Gets me off every time.”

“Noted.” Kitayama arches, choking on his air as he pulls his hand away and leaves Fujigaya on his own. “More.”

“More what?” Fujigaya asks, and now he’s intentionally being a brat. “Tell me what you want.”

Kitayama glares at him as much as he can in his state. “What I really want is your mouth, but I don’t think you will do that.”

Fujigaya waits long enough to make Kitayama hopeful before shaking his head. “Not this time.”

“Ah, it was worth a shot,” Kitayama hisses with a shrug. “And you say that like this will happen again.”

“You never know.” Fujigaya brushes his lips along the shell of Kitayama’s ear, earning an interesting noise that Fujigaya feels vibrate through the mattress. “We can pretend, though. You can imagine my lips stretched around you, right? I bet you’ve thought about it before.”

“Too many times,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya’s eyes fly open as he processes that. “You look like you’re good at it.”

“I am,” Fujigaya tells him, giving him a small taste of his words by sucking on his earlobe. “I could probably take it all.”

Kitayama moans out loud, thrusting up into Fujigaya’s hand like he’s having sex and Fujigaya twists his wrist the way Kitayama had shown him. “Oh fuck, Taisuke, I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” Fujigaya whispers, fisting Kitayama’s cock as he lets go all over his chest. The way he cries out is almost enough to make Fujigaya want to go again, though it’s entirely too soon. “You make the best noises.”

“Thanks.” Kitayama laughs a little as he catches his breath. “Do you feel better?”

Fujigaya thinks about his original intention for being here and nods. “Much.”

“You can crash if you don’t wanna go home,” Kitayama says, stretching his arm to blindly bang around on his nightstand until he finds his tissues. “If you feel weird sleeping in here, my couch is almost as comfortable.”

“I don’t think I can move,” Fujigaya admits, his skin still tingling from their mind-blowing sex. “Why would it be weird?”

Kitayama shrugs. “Fuck if I know.”

That’s the last thing Fujigaya knows before daylight comes, waking him up much differently than usual. The window is on the wrong side of the room, and his dog doesn’t cover nearly as much of his back as she snores in his ear. As he becomes more awake, he remembers what happened last night and who he went to bed with, then spots the clock on the nightstand.

“Fuck,” he groans, accidentally elbowing the lump behind him. It’s entirely too early, his body even more exhausted the morning after the workout he’d gotten from both the PV and Kitayama.

“Mm,” Kitayama grumbles, followed by something incomprehensible as he flops an arm around Fujigaya’s waist and nuzzles up to his neck. It’s not that unpleasant, and he’s asleep anyway, so Fujigaya just lets it go and closes his eyes. Maybe he can catch a few more hours before he has to wake up and deal with the repercussions of spending the night with Kitayama.

Except that Kitayama isn’t sleeping anymore. Nowhere close, judging by the feel of his lips along the back of Fujigaya’s neck and the erection digging into the bottom of his spine. “Ugh, seriously?” Fujigaya whines. “You want to go again?”

“You’re still here,” Kitayama mutters, his groggy morning voice way too enticing, and Fujigaya’s about done arguing when Kitayama’s hand drifts around his waist. “If you’re in my bed, you have sex with me. That’s the rule.”

“Is it,” Fujigaya says flatly, though he leans his head back as Kitayama mouths at his neck, moving up to his ear as fingers wrap loosely around Fujigaya’s halfway interested cock. “Didn’t peg you as someone who likes it in the morning.”

“I like it anytime,” Kitayama clarifies. “Morning is just easy.”

At this level of consciousness, that seems like sound logic, and Fujigaya arches back against Kitayama with a groan as Kitayama strokes him to full hardness. “I guess you’re doing me this time?”

“That would be convenient, yes,” Kitayama answers. “Though if you’re really opposed to it, you’ll have to turn around.”

“Effort,” Fujigaya mumbles by way of reasoning, and Kitayama rocks against him more pointedly as Fujigaya tries to reach for the lube still on the nightstand. He comes up just a few centimeters short, though, but Kitayama notices and grinds against him even harder, with just enough force to close the distance. “I don’t suppose you have a condom hidden under your pillow.”

Kitayama laughs into his hairline. “If you insist on me using one, you’ll have to actually get _in_ the drawer.”

“This is how you end up like Akanishi,” Fujigaya teases him, already giving in to his laziness as he presses the lube into Kitayama’s hand and gets a little more comfortable on his side.

“Maybe if I actually slept with girls,” Kitayama replies. “I’ll pull out, I promise.”

“Whatever,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama goes right back to nipping and sucking along the back of his neck as slick fingers pry his legs apart. Kitayama is gentle but fast, Fujigaya’s body too relaxed to protest very much, and Fujigaya sees another perk to doing it in the morning.

He jerks as Kitayama hits him in the right spot, his moan delayed like it had a problem coming out, and Kitayama moves against him more sharply. Fujigaya can feel a wet spot on his back from precome and it makes him hotter, knowing Kitayama wants him that much before he’s fully conscious. Soon he’s bouncing on three fingers, breathing through his gasps and arching back against Kitayama, actively lifting his knee to his chest to get more depth.

“Ask for it,” Kitayama hisses, leaning up to reach Fujigaya’s ear. “Ask for it and I’ll give it to you.”

“It’s too early for this,” Fujigaya mutters, but then Kitayama’s pushing against that spot again and Fujigaya groans in defeat. “Fucking fuck me already.”

“Good enough,” Kitayama says, pulling out his fingers and hooking his arm around Fujigaya’s leg, holding Fujigaya flush against his chest as he slowly pushes inside. “Oh. Oh, Taisuke. You feel so good.”

All Fujigaya can do is moan, trying not to choke on his air as Kitayama fills him, the angle perfect. Arms squeeze him tight as Kitayama starts to move, gradually pulling out and thrusting back in until Fujigaya pushes back for more, which Kitayama has no problem providing as he speeds up and doesn’t stop. Fujigaya can’t catch up, Kitayama’s low grunts pulling him further under just like last night, only this time he feels it deep inside him.

“Touch yourself,” Kitayama hisses, nudging Fujigaya’s hand down helpfully. “Like you were talking about last night. I want to feel you come.”

Fujigaya swears under his breath, which is immediately lost as Kitayama pounds into him, and now he has to rush to keep up. He fists himself too fast, too hard, but it’s so good, both of their noises escalating as Fujigaya tightens around Kitayama with each stroke.

“So good,” Kitayama mutters, followed by a sharp groan as Fujigaya starts thumbing the head of his cock. “Oh fuck, you weren’t kidding about that.”

A chuckle prefaces Fujigaya’s uncontrollable noises as he pulls himself off, arching back against Kitayama who hits him just right, and all he knows for the next couple seconds is blissful orgasm. He still feels Kitayama inside him, moaning in his ear, arms tight around him until he practically shoves Fujigaya away and takes his cock in hand.

Fujigaya lifts his heavy eyelids in time to watch Kitayama come on his own stomach, just like last night only this time by his own means. It’s quite possibly hotter and has Fujigaya’s nerves singeing even more, his breath still running away from him.

“Can I go back to sleep now?” he grumbles, and Kitayama laughs as he rips the pillowcase off of his pillow to clean up with. “I’m actually off today and I’d like to enjoy it.”

“If you share the pillow,” Kitayama says, nudging him over as he does exactly that. “Otherwise you have to move to the couch.”

“Whatever.” Fujigaya settles on his side, eyes falling shut, but then Kitayama’s flopping onto his back and they’re quite possibly closer than they were when Kitayama was inside him. It’s not uncomfortable by any means, though, Kitayama’s slow, even breathing lulling him away until his phone goes off across the room. “ _Fuck_.”

“Answer it or I will,” Kitayama snaps, and it’s threatening enough to have Fujigaya scrambling out from underneath Kitayama’s deadweight.

It’s his mother, luring him home with the promise of a tasty breakfast, and for a split-second he considers inviting Kitayama. Then he remembers that this is not a _thing_ ; he has no obligation to see Kitayama any other time than at work. They’re not even friends, really. Fujigaya would probably stick up for him if someone was talking shit, like seriously, but mostly for the sake of the group. That’s the extent of their professional relationship.

“See you later,” Kitayama mumbles into the pillow, and that’s it.

Fujigaya blinks as he gets dressed, feeling more disgusting than he should in clothes he only wore for less than an hour, and offers one more glance over his shoulder before he walks out of the room. Kitayama is peacefully asleep, still naked and half-assedly wrapped in his sheets, and Fujigaya notices his skin is tinted pink a little. A sex flush.

“Later,” he says, and leaves.

That night, he’s drinking with Kawai and Yokoo—no soliciting minors this time, thankfully—and he ignores the way Kawai eyes him curiously while Yokoo scans the dancefloor for fresh meat.

“You did it, didn’t you?” Kawai accuses, earning Yokoo’s attention as he smirks across the table at Fujigaya. “You _dog_. Who did you end up using? Someone in the agency?”

“Not your business,” Fujigaya replies, but he knows Kawai too well to expect him to just drop it like that.

“What are you talking about?” Yokoo asks, taking a swig of his beer as he looks from one to the other.

“Taisuke obviously hooked up last night,” Kawai announces, and Fujigaya doesn’t say anything. “He took my advice, because I’m a _genius_ , and finally got some no-strings-attached casual sex. Congratulations.”

Fujigaya rolls his eyes as Kawai insists on shaking his hand, and he’s throwing back his drink when Yokoo’s expression takes on even more confusion.

“But Hiromitsu said that you two hung out last night,” Yokoo says, and Fujigaya chokes almost to the point of causing a scene. “Taisuke, you _didn’t_.”

Kawai just stares at him. “Did you really?”

“If it was either one of you, would you want me to tell anyone?” Fujigaya shoots back, and Kawai looks contemplative while Yokoo just wrinkles up his nose, probably at the idea of hooking up with Fujigaya. “Let it be.”

“You really think you can do that and not affect the group?” Yokoo asks, taking on that voice he uses with Senga and Nikaido when they cause trouble, then turns to Kawai. “This is all your fault.”

“I just told him to find someone who he was attracted to and didn’t respect!” Kawai replies defensively. “ _Technically_ Kitamitsu fills both requirements, assuming Taipi’s attracted to him.”

They both swivel their heads to stare at Fujigaya, who averts his eyes to the straw in his drink he’d almost just spewed everywhere. “He’s not completely unappealing when there’s not a camera in his face.”

“Taisuke,” Yokoo says, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you would be so irresponsible.”

“Was it good?” Kawai wants to know, and Fujigaya rolls his eyes. “Come on, you can tell me.”

“I’m done talking about this,” Fujigaya declares, signalling for another drink. He feels a headache coming on. “It happened, it’s over, nothing is changing, and it won’t affect the group.”

“One of those statements is true,” Yokoo says pointedly. “You can’t just do these things without feelings, Taisuke, you’ve never been able to. You used to fall in love with every girl who talked to you at a party.”

Kawai looks like he wants to hear more about that, but Fujigaya cuts him off. “I’ve grown up since then, Wataru. This is _just sex_. That’s all.”

“Famous last words,” Yokoo replies, but he lets it go. Fujigaya thinks it has more to do with the girl eyeing him from the bar than his actual resignation from the argument, but either way Fujigaya’s grateful for slutty favors.

They all have to work together the next day, and everything is fine. Kitayama is annoying like usual, making it easy to ignore the memories of their night together as they rehearse. It helps that Fujigaya doesn’t have to look at him, and when he faces that direction, he only sees the top of Kitayama’s head.

Single promotions drag on and the more time that passes, the more distant the memory becomes. Soon it will be like that time four years ago when he made out with Tottsu that they don’t talk about. It happened, but he doesn’t really remember how it felt.

Except that Summary was only for a couple months, and Tottsu didn’t make very recognizable noises that take Fujigaya right back to that place and time, recalling _everything_ strongly enough to flush scarlet in a room full of people. Fujigaya’s only saving grace is that they’re not on TV, just backstage loitering—predictably, Kitayama had been sleeping, at least until he stretched with the most obscene moan that has Fujigaya grateful he’s not sporting the junk for this performance.

Nobody seems to notice his reaction, nor when Miyata wakes up Kitayama later and Kitayama’s groggy voice has Fujigaya visibly shivering. Though Yokoo just thinks Fujigaya is cold, draping a jacket over his shoulders until they’re due on stage, and Fujigaya smiles at him gratefully.

It continues like that, little things like a particular noise or the tone of voice that brings Fujigaya right back to Kitayama’s bed and the events that took place there. Everything Kitayama does in front of a camera turns him off, but all he has to do is stretch and Fujigaya’s skin is on fire. If Kitayama notices any of this, he doesn’t make Fujigaya aware of it, and Fujigaya would guarantee that Kitayama would tease him to the end of the earth and back if he knew that what he was doing had any effect on Fujigaya.

About three weeks have passed when Kitayama approaches him straightforwardly, in true Kitayama style, though he has the decency to do it when nobody else is around.

“You should meet me in the storage closet by the stairs,” he says, and Fujigaya learns that he doesn’t even need to be drinking anything to choke. “Right now.”

“Are you actually serious?” Fujigaya asks, sticking up his nose at the choice of location. “Are we juniors?”

“Do you have a better place in mind?” Kitayama folds his arms expectantly. “Well?”

“You could wait until we’re done _working_ , like an adult,” Fujigaya tells him.

Kitayama moves closer to him, close enough for Fujigaya to feel the reason for the urgency, and his eyes widen as Kitayama hisses, “You and your fucking mouth. You’re lucky I don’t just shove my dick down your throat when you touch your lips like that.”

“What makes you think I would even let you do that?” Fujigaya replies, though his body is quickly catching up because Kitayama shameless and aroused is _hot_.

“Because I would make it worth your while,” Kitayama says, licking his lips pointedly enough for Fujigaya to imagine them around his cock. “I’m good at it, too.”

“Ugh, fine, let’s go,” Fujigaya gives in, though it’s him dragging Kitayama by the arm through the hallways to the storage closet in question. “But you’re going first.”

“I said meet me there, not make it obvious to everyone we pass,” Kitayama grumbles, but there’s not even anyone in this part of the building. The closet is unlocked, and Fujigaya wholly believes that its only purpose is to serve for impatient idols who want to make out and can’t wait until they’re on their own time.

Fujigaya’s shoved up against the door the moment it’s shut, momentarily in awe of Kitayama’s strength as that mouth presses to his throat and those hands whip open his belt. He’s not aroused yet, but it doesn’t take him that long to get there as Kitayama squeezes him purposefully and lowers himself to his knees. Fujigaya’s hands relocate to Kitayama’s hair, unstyled and damp from rehearsal, fingers tugging enough for Kitayama to make a small noise of pleasure as he leans forward to take Fujigaya into his mouth.

“Oh,” Fujigaya gasps, eyes falling shut as he leans back to rest his head against the door. Kitayama’s effortlessly swallowing him whole and it’s taking all of his effort not to just snap his hips and fuck Kitayama’s mouth, but only because he doesn’t want to have to let Kitayama do the same thing to him.

Kitayama’s tongue is all over him, seeming to lick every centimeter of his cock without pulling off, and Fujigaya’s breaths are overcome by soft moans as Kitayama starts to move. The main benefit of these casual encounters is that there isn’t much teasing, getting to the point as quickly as possible, though Fujigaya would think that Kitayama wants him to come in five seconds judging by his impossibly fast pace and the tight suction of his lips.

It’s not five seconds, but it’s soon enough for Fujigaya to be completely unprepared for the tidal wave of orgasm, even though Kitayama clearly intends for it to happen by pulling back to tongue the head. He licks into the slit and it’s all over, Fujigaya barely choking out a warning before Kitayama sucks in enough of his cock to drink down everything Fujigaya gives him.

Kitayama stands up, still swallowing as he pushes pointedly on Fujigaya’s shoulders, though Fujigaya doesn’t need much help getting to his knees with the way he slumps down to the floor. He blinks up at Kitayama, who’s unfastening his belt on his own and pulling out his cock, and Fujigaya’s still out of it when Kitayama grabs him by the head and guides him closer.

He feels the wet tip against his lips and parts them, allowing Kitayama to feed it to him as he wonders if Kitayama always leaks like this or if it’s just for him. He tastes enticing and Fujigaya starts sucking in search of more, using his tongue along the underside and taking him in as far as he can. He makes it about halfway before it gets uncomfortable, but once his motor controls work again he brings his hand up to make up the difference, which ends up better since he can still flick his wrist the way Kitayama likes it.

“Oh, oh fuck,” Kitayama gasps, his fingers sifting through Fujigaya’s hair as more of a gentle stroking than desperate pulling. “Taisuke, please, don’t stop.”

This is nice, Fujigaya thinks as he moves a little faster, enjoying the way Kitayama’s body shudders and deep groans spill from his lips. He could get used to Kitayama begging for it, definitely. Particularly since Kitayama seems to want to make this a reoccurring thing, which is not really a _thing_ at all, but Fujigaya’s hard-pressed to oppose anything that results in him getting to bottom out in someone’s mouth.

“Damn, you look so good like this,” Kitayama hisses, and Fujigaya looks up to find Kitayama’s eyes on him, dark and radiating with lust. Kitayama’s pushing his bangs back to see him better, biting his lip as Fujigaya sucks him past his lips over and over again. He flicks his wrist faster, swallowing around the head, and Kitayama’s fingers tighten considerably on his hair. “Keep doing that, I’m close.”

Fujigaya lowers his eyes, because it feels weird to hold eye contact when he has a dick in his mouth, but that just makes it easier to finish Kitayama off, meeting his hand with his lips and tonguing everywhere he can until Kitayama makes a strangled noise and more of that taste fills his mouth. He swallows because it’s easy, which was probably Kitayama’s logic as well, and he’s in no rush to stand up as he lets Kitayama fall from his mouth and leans back against the door.

“You should see yourself right now,” Kitayama says, quite breathlessly. “You’re such a hot mess.”

That has Fujigaya cracking a smile, finding the compliment amidst the mocking, and he finds the strength to fix his pants and open one of his eyes. Kitayama’s staring at him, looking like he’s in complete awe of Fujigaya right now, and Fujigaya tries not to gloat. He may not be able to fit it all in his mouth, but he’s still good at what he does. “You’re welcome.”

“Taisuke, I…” Kitayama starts, then seems to shake himself out of it and just offers Fujigaya a hand up. “Thanks.”

“Next time try to contain yourself while we’re at work,” Fujigaya says, mostly teasing as he dusts off his knees, and it’s not until he’s returned to the practice room that he realizes he’d basically just agreed to another hook-up.

Well, he reasons with himself, it’s certainly safer than going to someone different every time. And easier, being as he learns more about what Kitayama likes each time they’re together. Though Fujigaya imagines someone would have to be really dumb not to know what Kitayama likes, because he has no problem saying it out loud. That’s one of the things Fujigaya actually appreciates about him, because he doesn’t have to wonder if he’s doing something right since Kitayama will tell him. It’s the most effortless sex he’s ever had.

He’s just going to ignore the fact that he appreciates anything about Kitayama at all, even though appreciation is not the same thing as respect no matter what Kawai says when he finally breaks Fujigaya down for the details. Kawai didn’t make the rules of casual sex. Kawai doesn’t even lay anyone other than his own bandmates, so he has no room to talk about Fujigaya laying one of his. Fujigaya would be fine with never laying Kitayama again, actually, so he’s definitely not attached. He has no secret desires to drag Kitayama into a closet to make out while they’re working, even in the rare instances that he does something hot. If anything, Kitayama’s the one who can’t keep his hands off of Fujigaya, but only because Kitayama knows that Fujigaya will let him. As long as Fujigaya’s offering, he’ll take it. Fujigaya imagines that Kitayama would sleep with anyone who wanted him. He doesn’t seem that picky, which rules out all possibilities of attachment.

All of these excuses run through Fujigaya’s head as he rides the train to Kitayama’s place, this time by himself. He’d come from his own house, where he’d already showered and made himself presentable. Both times he’d been with Kitayama before, it had been right after (or during) work, so he hadn’t been at his full potential. He feels much better in regular clothes as opposed to ratty sweats he tosses in his bag to change into after practice, despite the fact that they won’t be on for very long, and his hair is properly done even though it will probably get messed up.

It’s worth it when Kitayama stares at him for an entire minute when he answers the door, his own hair barely brushed and wearing a T-shirt and track pants that Fujigaya’s entirely positive he slept in. While Fujigaya usually has high standards for people taking pride in their appearance, something about Kitayama makes him feel the exact opposite. He likes it better when Kitayama isn’t trying so hard, or at all, because he sees that all day long. Kitayama has spent his whole career doing what he thinks is sexy, what other people think is sexy, when what is _really_ sexy is the way his hair sticks out in fourteen different places and falls into his eyes, or how his clothes are so worn that they cling to his body.

“You didn’t have to get all whored up for me,” Kitayama greets him, his voice teasing but his eyes strong.

“It’s not for you,” Fujigaya rushes to protest. “I just don’t like looking like a scrub in my private time.”

Kitayama rolls his eyes, probably at the implication that he looks like a scrub, but Fujigaya just invites himself inside and right into Kitayama’s mouth, grabbing him by the face before the front door is even closed behind him. The third meeting means that formalities are over, as is waiting for Kitayama to make the first move. They both know what he’s here for and there’s no reason to waste time building up to it.

If anything, Kitayama is completely on board with Fujigaya taking control, looping his arms around Fujigaya’s neck and pressing against him as he kisses back. He’s not passive at all, chasing Fujigaya’s tongue around his mouth just as much as Fujigaya’s doing it back, but it’s Fujigaya who maneuvers them toward the couch, which is the closest surface that isn’t the floor. The backs of Kitayama’s thighs hit the arm of the couch and they both topple over it, barely making it onto the cushion as Fujigaya pulls at Kitayama’s T-shirt and Kitayama already has Fujigaya’s pants open.

“Shit, you smell good,” Kitayama hisses when they break apart to pull off each other’s shirts. Kitayama doesn’t return to his mouth, his nose in Fujigaya’s throat as he breathes in the scent of Fujigaya’s cologne, and Fujigaya moans when Kitayama’s fingers wrap around him. “What brand is that?”

Fujigaya tells him, his lips latching onto Kitayama’s ear for lack of anywhere else to go. Kitayama squirms beneath him, cock hard when Fujigaya reaches down to palm the front of his pants, his appreciative noises tickling Fujigaya’s throat.

“I know what I’m getting you for your birthday now,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya laughs because it’s so like Kitayama to buy a present that would benefit him somehow—assuming they’re still hooking up by then. June is a long way away.

Purposely not thinking about that, Fujigaya focuses on untying Kitayama’s pants and drawing out his cock, finding his tip already wet and smearing it with his thumb. Kitayama actively kicks off his pants the rest of the way and wraps his legs around Fujigaya’s waist, once again making it clear who is doing whom. Fujigaya has absolutely no complaint, already reaching into his pocket for his own supplies that he’d starting keeping on him purely for situations like this where they don’t actually make it to the bedroom.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama gasps, his body accepting Fujigaya’s fingers a little easier than the first time, though that may be because he’d obviously just woken up from a nap. “Do this for a little while, okay?”

“Huh?” Fujigaya asks, not really paying attention to words with Kitayama’s hand stroking him.

“Touching me like this,” Kitayama clarifies, the words sounding even dirtier in his raspy voice. “I really like it, so keep doing it even after I’m ready, please?”

Fujigaya just groans, flicking his wrist more to push his fingers in and out of Kitayama’s body, simulating sex. “Like that?”

“Deeper,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya follows directions. “Curl your fingers, come on, you know where it is.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Fujigaya understands, aiming for that spot that has Kitayama arching beneath him, crying out into his living room. “Right there?”

“Yeah,” Kitayama gasps, bucking up against the touch like it’s involuntary. “Just keep doing that, a little harder, feels so good.”

Fujigaya uses more pressure, amazed when Kitayama starts choking on his moans and shuddering. “Can you come like this?”

“No,” Kitayama replies, sounding sad about it, “but it won’t take much once you touch me. I do this all the time to myself, though it’s much better when someone else does it.”

“Really,” Fujigaya says, imagines of Kitayama fucking himself flooding his mind, and now he’s thrusting into Kitayama’s hand.

“Mm, you like thinking about that?” Kitayama asks, kissing the whine that forms in Fujigaya’s throat when he pulls his hand away. “You want to watch me do it?”

“Fuck yes,” Fujigaya answers, far beyond the point of shame as he takes out his frustration on Kitayama’s ass. Kitayama’s moan pierces his ears, loud and shrill and in no way pained, leading Fujigaya to continue being that forceful as Kitayama falls apart beneath him. “Touch yourself, I wanna see you come like this.”

“Mm, gladly,” Kitayama replies, pushing his hand down his chest to wrap around his cock, and Fujigaya doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of watching Kitayama jerk himself off. This time he can feel it, muscles tightening around his three fingers as they move back and forth inside Kitayama, who arches beautifully as he fists his cock so fast that it’s a blur. “I’m almost there.”

Fujigaya feels it before he sees it, Kitayama’s body clamping down a fraction of a second before he spills over his fingers. Fujigaya slows down considerably, for which Kitayama looks grateful since every thrust of Fujigaya’s fingers has him jerking with aftershocks, his splattered chest heaving for air as he comes down.

“You don’t have to stop,” Kitayama tells him, and Fujigaya nods as he leans in to press his mouth to Kitayama’s collarbone, continuing down and lapping up the come on the way. Kitayama makes a low noise of approval and Fujigaya licks his lips a little more than necessary when he’s done, only to be grabbed by the shoulders and pulled up into Kitayama’s mouth.

Fujigaya shifts them further up the couch, where he can stretch out his legs and kick off his pants. He grabs the condom from his pocket first and Kitayama groans softly at the recognizable sound.

“Are you screwing like thirty people or something?” he asks, though his tone sounds more amused than accusatory.

“No?” Fujigaya answers, confused as to why this is suddenly coming up now. “I can barely find time to fuck _you_.”

“Why is this necessary, then?” Kitayama plucks the condom from Fujigaya’s fingers and holds it up. “It’s not like I’m gonna get pregnant.”

“I don’t know, I’ve just always used one,” Fujigaya replies, feeling like he’s being asked to explain why he likes to wear bracelets. “Except that last time with you.”

“You should try it without,” Kitayama says, stretching his arm to place the packet on the table, and Fujigaya doesn’t stop him. “See if you like it.”

Fujigaya blinks at him. “Okay…”

“Don’t look so terrified,” Kitayama tells him, squirming a little at Fujigaya’s fingers that have stilled inside him. “I’m clean, I’m not sleeping with anyone else, and I really want to feel you without any barriers.”

That last statement goes right between Fujigaya’s legs, making it easier for him to pull out his fingers and kneel between Kitayama’s thighs, hissing as he lubes his cock without anything covering it. “I’ll pull out, then.”

“You don’t have to,” Kitayama says, reaching up to pull Fujigaya down on top of him. “I like how that feels inside me, too.”

Fujigaya groans at the implication and presses their mouths together, distracting himself with a searing kiss as he rocks his way inside Kitayama. Already it’s so much different, hot and slick and the first thrust has him harshly breaking their kiss, bracing his forehead against Kitayama’s shoulder as he’s overcome by all of the new sensations.

“Mm, you like it, don’t you?” Kitayama whispers, running his fingers through Fujigaya’s hair. “You can go faster, it’s okay.”

Fujigaya drops his hands to Kitayama’s ass and holds him still as he pounds into him, deep enough to make him shiver but not enough to be too much. It’s _so good_ and Kitayama’s constant moaning tells him that the feeling is mutual, hands gripping his biceps as Kitayama’s mouth latches onto whatever it can find, mostly Fujigaya’s ear.

“I wanna feel you come,” Kitayama says after a few minutes of hard, steady fucking, by which point Fujigaya’s mind is completely gone and susceptible to any and all suggestion. His hips move a little faster and he clutches onto Kitayama as he goes over the edge, Kitayama’s muscles continuing to stimulate him even after he’s done.

“Oh my god,” Fujigaya gasps, unable to catch his breath as he feels nothing but wetness around his cock. “You actually like this?”

Kitayama makes the dirtiest moan, purposely squirming as Fujigaya pulls out, bringing some of the mess with him. “Yeah, I do.”

Fujigaya must be making a disgusted face, because Kitayama laughs and reminds him that _he_ doesn’t have to deal with it. Instead he rolls off of Kitayama and tries to remember how to use his legs, decidedly _not_ watching Kitayama continue to bask in whatever pleasure he gets out of this, though he has to admit that the sight of his come leaking out of Kitayama isn’t bad at all. It gives him a nice feeling that seems to outweigh the gross factor.

It’s not until they’re soaking in the tub later that Fujigaya realizes that feeling was _possession_ , which is a million times worse than respect.

“We should probably stop doing this,” he says out loud, though he can’t bring himself to move his nose from Kitayama’s freshly washed hair.

“Can we finish the bath first?” Kitayama asks, sounding otherwise unaffected. “I’m really comfortable right now.”

“Yeah, okay,” Fujigaya agrees, astounded at how not awkward this is, how much Kitayama doesn’t appear to care that he just ended this thing that is not a thing between them.

Fujigaya might stay in the bath a little longer than he would normally (which is already ridiculously long), but he argues that it’s because Kitayama’s bath salts are so nice and relaxing. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that this will be the last time he holds Kitayama like this, feeling Kitayama’s skin against his own and the weight of his body lying on him. And everything else that he’s not going to think about anymore.

“See you…tomorrow?” Kitayama asks when they’re dressed (well, Fujigaya’s dressed, Kitayama’s wearing an open robe and boxers) and standing, pausing to give into a giant yawn that shows his tonsils. “Do we work tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Fujigaya replies. “Another performance.”

“Yay,” Kitayama says sleepily, and it’s almost cute. “See you then.”

“Bye,” Fujigaya calls out, trying not to be too dramatic as he turns and walks out of Kitayama’s apartment. The already cold night seems even colder, but Fujigaya just pulls up his hood and heads to the train station, mentally planning the rest of his evening. It’s not that late—he could probably catch Kawai at the club, or just stop by his place. Hell, right now he’d even listen to Hasshi rattle on about things he should have no business knowing anything about, anything to distract Fujigaya, to get his mind off of the fact that Yokoo was right.

Work is not by any means intolerable, because Fujigaya is a professional and has worked with Kitayama long enough to be really good at ignoring him, but that means nothing since Fujigaya doesn’t _want_ to ignore him. He doesn’t want to forget him and what they’ve done together. He doesn’t want to stop touching him, kissing him, fucking him, and that’s exactly why he has to.

“Gaya looks sad,” Tamamori assesses after the last of their performances for this single. “Do you need to talk?”

Shaking his head, Fujigaya flashes him a grateful smile. “I’m okay, but thanks for asking.”

“Do you need a distraction?” Tamamori goes on, giving Fujigaya a knowing look because even he can read Fujigaya’s feelings when they’re right on his face.

“Probably,” Fujigaya admits.

Tamamori slings an arm around him. “Come on, let’s go get into trouble.”

‘Trouble’ to Tamamori is loitering around town, which is actually a really good idea since it gives Fujigaya plenty to look at and think about other than the obvious. It’s not too cold outside, and it’s late enough that there aren’t that many other people out. They have almost the whole park to themselves, and Fujigaya swings like a child as his frustrations seem to blow away with the wind.

Fujigaya likes Tamamori because Tamamori is the most low-maintenance friend he’s ever had. That’s not to say Fujigaya takes advantage of him, but they can go for months without talking to each other outside of work, then suddenly they’re having dinner and laughing about something completely irrelevant. Tamamori, for all of his faults, also has a knack for reminding Fujigaya about the simple things in life. Like swinging.

When Fujigaya has swung out most of his aggression, he notices Tamamori completely still on the next swing, watching him. It’s not even an intense stare, just like Fujigaya is the most interesting thing to look at right now. He smiles as Fujigaya slows to a stop, rushing to catch his breath.

“Hey,” Tamamori says, side-swinging to grab a hold of Fujigaya’s chain. “Are you in love?”

The question would take Fujigaya off guard if it wasn’t Tamamori. “No,” he answers without thinking, because thinking may yield a different outcome.

“Oh, okay.” Tamamori grins brightly, and Fujigaya feels considerably happier. “Want to come over? My mom said she’d leave me leftovers, and she’s always trying to make me eat for two people because she thinks I’m too skinny.”

“I know the feeling,” Fujigaya replies, unconsciously patting his own stomach with which he’s had his battles over the years. “Sure, thanks for the invitation.”

“It’s more for my own selfishness than anything,” Tamamori admits. “I really just want to go home, but I don’t want to leave you here, because you’re sad and need a distraction.”

The honesty has Fujigaya laughing out loud. “That’s still thoughtful of you.”

Tamamori shrugs. “Come on, let’s go.”

They talk about pointless things on the train and Tamamori’s mother is actually still awake when they arrive, fussing over Fujigaya and nearly force-feeding him where he stands. Tamamori just looks smug, probably because it’s not him for once, and Fujigaya gets away with taking a bowl of snacks upstairs because they’re both exhausted from work and want to relax.

“Wanna play a video game?” Tamamori offers when they get to his room, changing into sweats and making a fountain out of his bangs. He holds out another scrunchie questioningly and Fujigaya nods, so Tamamori puts up his bangs as well. “I’m not very good at them, though. Miyacchi only bought them so he has something to do while I’m sleeping.”

Fujigaya laughs as they flop onto Tamamori’s bed. “Nah, it’s no fun if you’re not into it.”

“I can get into it,” Tamamori insists. “I’m just really bad at them. I can’t remember what buttons do what.”

“It’s okay,” Fujigaya says. “Right now that seems like too much work anyway, even if it’s effortless to kick your ass.”

Tamamori rolls over onto his back and stretches out. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“Mm, not really,” Fujigaya says into Tamamori’s bedspread. “The effort to pay attention.”

“Wanna make out?”

Fujigaya’s eyes widen, expecting Tamamori to laugh and call it a joke, but his face is calm as Fujigaya turns to gape at him, if a bit inquisitive. “Are you serious?”

“Why not?” Tamamori shrugs. “I know you do more with Kitamitsu, so it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Did,” Fujigaya corrects him, too amazed at the situation to do more than focus on technicalities. “We don’t anymore.”

“Then that makes it even more okay,” Tamamori leans on his side and fixes gentle eyes onto Fujigaya. “Won’t it make you feel better? It always makes me feel better.”

“I…” Fujigaya blinks a couple times, then remembers where he is. “What about your mom?”

“She won’t walk in,” Tamamori assures him, scooting a little closer. “I told her she might not want to check on us.”

“You said that?!” Fujigaya exclaims, though most of his incredulity has nothing to do with Tama-mama.

Tamamori shrugs. “We’re really close.”

Fujigaya is still processing this when fingers encircle his wrist and pull him forward, right onto a pair of very soft lips. His breath hitches, but Tamamori just takes that as consent and wraps an arm around him, lightly rubbing his back as he lures out Fujigaya’s tongue. It’s easy and incredibly lazy, enjoyable in the way that kissing usually is, but it’s nothing like kissing Kitayama.

It’s that thought that has him pulling back, firmly pressing his lips closed and giving Tamamori an apologetic look. “I’m sorry—”

“You _are_ in love,” Tamamori cuts him off, his eyes much harder now as they tell him what he refuses to believe himself. “You’re in love with Kitamitsu, aren’t you?”

Fujigaya stares at him. “Two seconds ago you were trying to shove your tongue down my throat.”

“You lied to me,” Tamamori tells him, and Fujigaya feels like he kicked a cute puppy. “Now you have to tell me everything.”

His logic may be flawed, but the words start pouring out and Fujigaya can’t stop them. Tamamori makes appropriate facial expressions as Fujigaya word-vomits all over him, but doesn’t say anything to interrupt. Fujigaya talks so much that after awhile he’s just babbling, saying things that he wouldn’t even admit to himself, non-stop until Tamamori reaches up and flicks his fountain bangs.

“You love him,” Tamamori says, so firmly that Fujigaya believes it. “It’s okay, Gaya. You _should_ feel that way toward someone you are so intimate with.”

“Were,” Fujigaya corrects again, and this time it’s depressing. “It wasn’t even like that, anyway. The whole point was to keep it casual.”

“It’s _Kitamitsu_ ,” Tamamori tells him. “He’s an emotional chameleon. If you want it casual, it’ll be casual. But if you want more, he’ll probably give you more.”

“What makes you so sure?” Fujigaya challenges, his blood racing through his veins.

“Gaya, you wear your heart right in the middle of your nose.” Tamamori pokes said spot for emphasis. “Is it impossible for you to be anything but wholly dedicated and respectful to whoever that heart chooses. I don’t know a person in this world who would turn down a chance to let you love them, even just for a little while.”

“Even you?” Fujigaya teases, and Tamamori gives him an unimpressed look. “I find it incredibly ironic that you brought me here to seduce me and now you’re sending me off to someone else.”

“I can be shifty,” Tamamori says with a sly smile. “How do you know that wasn’t my intention from the beginning?”

All expression drains from Fujigaya’s face and Tamamori bursts out laughing. “I can’t believe you!” Fujigaya exclaims. “What would you have done if I actually went for it?”

“Had a really awkward sexual experience,” Tamamori answers. “Not much unlike the rest of them, sadly.”

“Ugh, you are something else,” Fujigaya grumbles, burying his face in the bedspread as he processes what had just happened.

“Thank you,” Tamamori replies, reaching over to pull the scrunchie out of Fujigaya’s hair, sending his bangs back into his face. “Now get your ass out of my bed and into Kitamitsu’s.”

Fujigaya whines as he gathers the effort to sit up. “Couldn’t you have schemed this _before_ I got comfortable?”

“Hey, you can stay if you want,” Tamamori says nonchalantly, “but I’ll just have to kiss you again.”

He starts to move and Fujigaya scrambles to get up, nearly tripping over himself while Tamamori rolls on his bed laughing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re welcome,” Tamamori says pointedly, and Fujigaya just huffs as he leaves, trying not to cringe when Tama-mama asks him if he feels better on his way out.

It doesn’t seem that cold outside anymore, not with the way Fujigaya’s face heats up at what he’s about to do. He should really call first, at least text to see if Kitayama’s even home, but he can’t just shoot off a quick message like that. Not after everything he’d said to Tamamori. Tamamori’s not the one who should have heard it, anyway.

Kitayama’s home, though Fujigaya’s not sure whether that’s a good thing or not as Kitayama looks like he’d just woken up, confused eyes squinting up at Fujigaya. Fujigaya suddenly wants to kick Tamamori in the face, because his heart does this flopping thing it’s only done before when girls would talk to him at parties, only a million times stronger because he’d never even kissed those girls.

“Do you do anything other than sleep when we’re not working?” Fujigaya blurts out.

“I eat, too,” Kitayama says seriously, his voice sinfully deep, and Fujigaya invites himself inside before he embarrasses himself on the front step of Kitayama’s apartment.

“I don’t wanna stop,” Fujigaya says clearly, unprecedented, his heart beating in his ears.

“Stop what?” Kitayama asks, then seems to figure it out from the glare he gets. “Oh! Okay. Just let me, um, actually no, I’m good.”

“Wait,” Fujigaya halts him as he starts to close the distance between them. “I wasn’t done talking.”

“Oh, we’re talking about it.” Kitayama steps back and looks at him expectantly, interrupting his stance with a yawn. “Ugh, sorry, I’m listening, really.”

“Why are you like this?” Fujigaya asks, going in a completely different direction than what he’d rehearsed on the way here. “Is it really okay for us to just do this without any kind of…anything?”

“Taisuke, you’re the one who started it,” Kitayama says slowly, but there’s absolutely no malice in his voice. “You call the shots. If you want to do it, let’s do it. If you don’t, we won’t.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Fujigaya demands. “Don’t you, I don’t know, have a preference one way or the other? Or are you just that emotionless that it could be anyone in your bed?”

“I’m not emotionless,” Kitayama replies, and now he’s starting to sound a little insulted. “That was the arrangement we had. Why would I bring in emotions when they’re not welcome? I’d just be setting myself up to get hurt.”

“It’s nice that you can control that,” Fujigaya tells him bitterly. “It’s nice that you can say all of those words and do all of those things without feeling anything more than physical gratification. I only wish I had that much control over _involuntary_ emotions.”

“Taisuke.” Kitayama stares at him, a hint of sympathy in his eyes, and Fujigaya’s anger subsides. “Did you feel something more than physical gratification with me?”

Fujigaya breathes a few times before meeting Kitayama’s gaze. “Yes,” he answers, feeling that familiar rush of energy again, and just like before the words flow out without thought. “I can’t stop thinking about it, to the point where every time you open your mouth I’m brought right back _here_. It’s not even about what we’ve already done, it’s about what I _can’t_ do.”

“Like what?” Kitayama asks, now wide awake as he looks at Fujigaya with his full attention.

“Like touching you for no reason,” Fujigaya says, staring at the floor as he spews out his jumbled thoughts. “Kissing you because I want to, not just because it’s a prelude to sex. Holding you close as we sleep, or just sit there, and I want to know what it feels like to be held by you as well. I want to find out if we have anything in common, something we could do together, outside of the bedroom. I want to just exist with you and see if anything comes of it.”

“But you still want to have sex with me, right?” Kitayama asks, and Fujigaya can’t read his face. “I mean, in addition to all of that stuff. Sex with feelings, or whatever.”

“I…yes,” Fujigaya says, his nerves on edge as he takes in Kitayama’s completely nonchalant reaction. “I really don’t think I’m capable of doing it any other way.”

“How do you feel?” Kitayama asks, and now he looks curious. “Right now, what are you feeling?”

“I can’t decide whether I want to punch you in the face for looking so unaffected, or if I should throw you down and prove it to you,” Fujigaya answers honestly.

“Well, I don’t wanna be punched,” Kitayama says, like he’s weighing his options. “And I’m not unaffected—I’m just trying to understand you.”

Fujigaya scoffs. “That may be impossible, because I don’t even understand me.”

Then Kitayama smiles, a small one that the cameras don’t get to see, and the tension lifts from Fujigaya’s shoulders. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Fujigaya repeats, convinced that his heart is about to beat right out of his chest and all the way across town.

“We can try to figure it out,” Kitayama suggests. “Together.”

It takes a second for Fujigaya to hear the words, though his body is already reacting when Kitayama steps forward and grabs onto his hand. They both stare at it as Kitayama laces their fingers together, considering the way it feels, and Kitayama lifts inquisitive eyes to Fujigaya.

“That’s nice,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama squeezes his hand as he reaches up for Fujigaya’s face, guiding him down. “Wait.”

“No?” Kitayama asks with a frown.

“I mean, you probably don’t want to kiss me right now,” Fujigaya says, wincing as he remembers where he just was.

“What have you been doing?” Kitayama asks, looking mostly amused, but there’s just enough blatant jealousy to have Fujigaya thinking that this may be okay after all.

“Nothing like that!” he rushes to says. “I just kissed Tamamori.”

Kitayama rolls his eyes. “Oh, I don’t care about that.”

This time Fujigaya lets himself be pulled down, his skin tingling before their lips even meet. Already this kiss is so much different, from Tamamori’s as well as the ones he’d had with Kitayama before. He _feels_ something, not just from the kiss itself but also from Kitayama, something he hasn’t known how badly he’s wanted to feel this entire time. Kitayama’s hand slides up into his hair and Fujigaya wraps his arms around Kitayama’s waist, losing more and more of his mind in the swirl of Kitayama’s tongue and the warmth of his touch.

It’s Kitayama who pulls away first, laughing a little as he brings his hands to Fujigaya’s collar. “Take off your coat, Taisuke. Stay awhile.”

Fujigaya lets Kitayama unbutton the coat, noticing the patience with which he pushes it off of Fujigaya’s shoulders and down his arms. “And here I thought it was you making me so hot.”

“Oh please,” Kitayama says as he places the coat on the back of the couch. “I can make you feel a fucking inferno. ”

He says it so straightforwardly that Fujigaya just raises his eyebrows, but before he can respond he’s back in Kitayama’s mouth, picking up right where he left off with a landslide of intensity behind it. He holds Kitayama close to him and Kitayama’s arms wrap around his neck, body pressing into his as they kiss like it the world is going to end tomorrow, like it’s the only way to breathe. For as calm and indifferent as he acts, Kitayama’s kiss gives him away, showing Fujigaya how much he was holding back before.

Suddenly he pulls away, and Fujigaya takes a lot of pride in his pink face and how breathless he is. “Unless you want to take me against the wall, we should probably relocate while we’re still coherent.”

“Do you want me to take you against the wall?” Fujigaya asks, only a little bit serious. “Isn’t it your turn anyway?”

“Were we actually taking turns?” Kitayama replies with a laugh. “I thought you were going to throw me down and prove to me why I should have feelings for you.”

“I can still do that,” Fujigaya says, and now he means every word of it.

“It’s not really necessary,” Kitayama tells him, and Fujigaya’s lust melts into something else. “But a reminder wouldn’t hurt.”

“Take me to bed before I really do throw you up against the wall,” Fujigaya says, his voice lower than usual, and Kitayama grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers again before leading him down the hall.

“Wall sex is overrated anyway,” Kitayama says casually when they reach the bedroom, and Fujigaya tackles him right onto the bed, arms wrapped around him from behind and mouth on his neck at the strong desire to make him forget he’s ever been with anyone else before. “ _Damn_ , Taisuke.”

“Too much?” Fujigaya asks, a little concerned at the level of his aggression, though it’s probably just the result of keeping his feelings pent up for so long.

“Fuck no,” Kitayama replies, pushing back against Fujigaya’s front. “Do it just like this, I wanna feel you all around me.”

“Your _mouth_ ,” Fujigaya groans, shoving Kitayama’s shirt off like it offends him before yanking his own over his head. “I fucking love it.”

“At least you can say it about something,” Kitayama comments, and Fujigaya pauses until Kitayama gives a pointed rock backwards. “Oh, don’t think too hard about it. Just show me instead.”

That Fujigaya can definitely do. He slides his hands up and down Kitayama’s chest, taking the time to explore it and see what areas make Kitayama make those noises that have Fujigaya grinding harder against his ass. It’s difficult to pinpoint since Kitayama doesn’t actually stop making those noises, but Fujigaya has no problem touching him anyway, feeling Kitayama’s hot skin under his fingers and making him squirm.

Kitayama makes a new noise when Fujigaya gets to his nipples, naturally spending a little more time there while he mouths at the back of Kitayama’s neck and shoulders. Then he brings one hand down to Kitayama’s pants, which are easy access sweats that aren’t even tied to stop Fujigaya from dipping right inside.

“If I had known giving in to your feelings would turn you into a cocktease, I might have made more stipulations,” Kitayama grumbles.

“Maybe I like to take my time and actually make you beg for it,” Fujigaya replies, having no qualms about abruptly removing his hands to tug down the rest of their clothes. He’d come prepared again, but only with a small tube of lubrication.

Kitayama arches like a cat, looking like he’s in heat with his ass sticking straight up into the air. Fujigaya leans back on his heels and admires the sight before him, including Kitayama’s death glare that clearly expresses his displeasure at Fujigaya pulling away. He’ll forgive Fujigaya soon enough, Fujigaya decides as he trails a single finger up the back of Kitayama’s thigh, watching him shiver as it gets closer to where he really wants it.

“Please, Taisuke,” Kitayama gasps, making Fujigaya’s breath hitch. “After sorting all of these _feelings_ , I really just want you inside me.”

“Anything in particular you want?” Fujigaya asks, taking his time coating his fingers with the lube while Kitayama whines at the loss of contact.

“Mm, well, I definitely want your cock,” Kitayama answers, moaning as Fujigaya’s hand returns to his ass. “And your fingers, and maybe your tongue.”

“Oh?” Fujigaya asks, leaning down to press a kiss to Kitayama’s tailbone. “Do you like being licked there?”

“I don’t know,” Kitayama replies. “I’ve never had it done to me before.”

It’s for that reason that Fujigaya actually does it, tonguing his way down Kitayama’s crack until he feels the twitching muscle, fueled by Kitayama’s moans that soar to an entirely different octave as Fujigaya slowly works through the tight hole. Kitayama’s body is jerking so hard that Fujigaya has to hold him down with one hand, inadvertently spreading his legs and pushing his tongue deeper inside him.

“Taisuke, fuck, that feels so good,” Kitayama’s gasping, his hands scrunching the sheets underneath them as he leans up on his elbows. “Use your fingers, too, please.”

Fujigaya follows orders, twisting a finger inside while licking around it, and already Kitayama’s relaxed enough for a second. He’s never had such a close-up for this part, watching Kitayama’s rim stretch around his fingers, tightening with each flick of his tongue. Kitayama’s thighs are quivering, his cock hard and leaking, and Fujigaya leans up between Kitayama’s legs to lick the tip as he pushes in a third finger.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama pants, reluctantly pushing himself up as Fujigaya nudges him, scooting up underneath him. “What are you doing?”

“Hi,” Fujigaya says, taking in Kitayama’s amazing facial expressions as he straddles Fujigaya’s waist. “I want to do it this way.”

“Whatever,” Kitayama says, leaning down to fuse their mouths together, and Fujigaya’s momentarily stunned that Kitayama would kiss him after where his tongue just was.

“So I take it you liked that?” he whispers between kisses, now fingering Kitayama so hard that he’s bouncing.

Kitayama makes a guttural noise that Fujigaya takes as affirmation, then pulls back enough to smirk down at Fujigaya. “You know what’s great about this position?”

“You have to do all the work?” Fujigaya guesses.

“I can take what I want when I want it,” Kitayama answers, smacking Fujigaya’s hand out of the way and grabbing his cock. Fujigaya hisses as he lowers himself onto it, rolling his hips like a pornographic accent dance, and Fujigaya can’t stop himself from thrusting up, pulling another nice sound from Kitayama’s throat. “Oh, do that again.”

“So much for you doing all the work,” Fujigaya grumbles, but he’s not even serious as he grabs Kitayama by the thighs and pounds up into him, forcing his eyes open to watch Kitayama bounce up and down on his lap, riding him with his back arched and his hair plastered to his face. It’s quite possibly the hottest thing Fujigaya’s ever seen, though that might be just because he’s the one fucking it.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama says urgently, and for good reason being as Fujigaya doesn’t think he’s ever hit him this deep, this _hard_ , and Kitayama’s so close that his cock is actually dripping precome, flinging it up and down Fujigaya’s chest from the force of his efforts.

It’s Fujigaya who closes his hand around it, thumbing the tip and using the wetness to stroke him, and suddenly everything gets so much tighter. He’s groaning almost as much as Kitayama, who can’t even keep his eyes open as he rocks back and forth, his muscles clamping down around Fujigaya.

“Fuck,” Fujigaya gasps, fisting him even faster because he’s dangerously close, pulled closer with each clench. “Come with me, Mitsu.”

Kitayama’s wail is enough agreement for Fujigaya, who throws his head back and lets go at the same time Kitayama pulses in his hand, streaking his chest with hot release. He’s still out of it when Kitayama’s weight shifts, lips pressing to his face and he’s kissing back before he’s even actively aware of it, arms wrapping around Kitayama’s back, damp with sweat.

“In case it’s not obvious,” Kitayama whispers breathlessly against his lips. “I return your feelings.”

Fujigaya kisses him harder, losing himself into everything he doesn’t yet understand as Kitayama returns it full force, until Kitayama leans up and Fujigaya’s once again reminded of what happens when you don’t use a condom.

“You’re gonna have to get used to this,” Kitayama tells him, clearly noticing the face Fujigaya makes, but he sounds amused as he rolls off of Fujigaya and licks up the mess he’d made on Fujigaya’s chest, earning a groan from the flicks of his tongue. “Who knows, maybe you’d even like it if I do it to you.”

Fujigaya tries not to think about that, though that doesn’t prove very difficult as Kitayama continues down Fujigaya’s chest, over his abdomen and between his legs where he’d left another mess. Fujigaya starts to stare in morbid fascination, but then Kitayama’s tongue bumps his oversensitive cock and he whines at the contact that doesn’t stop because, well, that’s where most of it is.

“Don’t you dare kiss me,” Fujigaya says through his gasps for air, and Kitayama just laughs as he leans up and shakes his head.

“No worse than what you did to me, dear,” Kitayama shoots back, using the term of endearment entirely facetiously, and Fujigaya shoves him completely off the bed and into the bathroom where he throws back blue Listerine like it was a shot of liquor.

They take a bath again, only this time Fujigaya’s leaning back against Kitayama after all of the washing is done, and it’s quite possibly just as nice as the other way around.

“So,” Kitayama says, combing Fujigaya’s wet hair with his fingers, “Tamamori, huh?”

“You should _thank_ him,” Fujigaya says pointedly. “He kissed me so I’d admit I wanted you, you know, for real.”

“Is he a good kisser?” Kitayama asks, sounding way too interested.

Fujigaya glares over his shoulder, where Kitayama distracts him with a kiss of his own. “He’s not bad.”

“Mm, in that case maybe I will thank him,” Kitayama says, stopping Fujigaya before he rages again. “I’m kidding, relax. I don’t even want to kiss him. It’s bad enough _you’re_ younger than me.”

“Cradle robber,” Fujigaya teases, and Kitayama pokes him somewhere that tickles. “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“Nope,” Kitayama answers, wrapping his arms around Fujigaya’s waist and nuzzling his nose just under Fujigaya’s hairline. “Got something in mind?”

“Yeah,” Fujigaya replies, feeling just as awkward as he had when asking Kitayama if he wanted to ‘hang out’ in the first place. “I thought we could, you know, go out.”

“Like on a date?” Kitayama asks, laughing a little. “Isn’t it a little late for that?”

Fujigaya frowns and folds his arms like a huffy child. “If you don’t want to…”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” Kitayama tells him, turning him around by his chin. “And don’t pout like that, you make me want to shove things into your mouth.”

Fujigaya pouts even harder just to be ornery, and Kitayama forcibly pushes his lip back into his mouth with his own. He doesn’t leave right away, Fujigaya twisting around for a slow kiss that has absolutely no sexual urgency behind it, hoping he never gets used to this.

“We can go on a date,” Kitayama says against his lips. “But if you want me to pay for everything, you better put out.”

This time Kitayama gets splashed, and the sound of his deep laughter rings in Fujigaya’s ears as he turns all the way around and kisses the smirk off his face.

Several months later, there’s a small gathering of close friends for Fujigaya’s birthday, most of whom know about him and Kitayama. It’s rather easy to keep their relationship low-key, especially since being seen together so much _improves_ their popularity individually, as a group, and as a combi. Yokoo ate his words when they made it past the 90-day probationary period, and Senga shared some of his winnings from being the only one to bet on them lasting that long (bless his heart) by buying them a room at a love hotel for the weekend.

Kawai takes full credit for everything, because it was all because of his sound advice in the first place, and Fujigaya supposes he’s right, even if he was solely responsible for their first and only fight by telling Kitayama that part of the original deal was not respecting him. Luckily, Kitayama holds a grudge for about as long as it takes Fujigaya to get him off with his mouth, though he was a little rougher than normal and made Fujigaya prove exactly how much he respected him.

At the birthday party, Fujigaya saves Kitayama’s gift for last, smiling when he sees it’s the cologne that Kitayama had told him he was going to get when he first smelled it and couldn’t get enough. It feels so nostalgic and Fujigaya barely makes it away from prying ears, taking Kitayama’s hand under the table and leaning over to whisper something he should have said four months ago.

“I love you.”


End file.
